Salim Gold

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Enclosure

Again I arrive in your city, veer

Into your arms, to verify you’re mine,

And clatter to your board and bed, to clutch

And suture, with élan—to the éclat.

 

Mannerheim vodka is as clear as wind

And the razor-edge of the sea, and cuts

Quick to the heart and to the quick.  Each kiss

Tastes of it, blithe as fire, lithe as tango.

 

My hostess, so usually a ghost

To me, who I conjure by endless post,

Are we close enough being now so close?

 

Disclose to me all your feelings.  I’m close

To you who is normally so distant.

Cleaving, we veer closely to openness.

 

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